


Bound

by georgeblagdeninacage



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Body Image, Body Worship, Breasts, Canon Era, Community: makinghugospin, M/M, Male with Breasts, Nipple Play, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 10:51:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2147991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgeblagdeninacage/pseuds/georgeblagdeninacage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras has been living with a shameful secret for all of his adult life: he has breasts, and every day he binds them down. When a drunken Grantaire finds out, putting his hands where they don't belong, Enjolras confronts him to make sure it stays a secret. Grantaire, however, is more attracted to Enjolras than ever before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Written based on a prompt on makinghugospin. Gynecomastia is a real condition where a young man can develop breasts just like a woman. In modern times of course it can be fixed surgically (I in fact knew someone with this condition who did so), however in the 1800s one would simply have to live with it...

The drunk had him cornered. 

The others were drinking too, laughing, distracted in their own merriment. Enjolras had slipped over to the mirror at the back of the room, subtly checking the fit of his vest, smoothing his cravat down just so. He had felt the bindings loosening beneath his shirt, and it was not convenient for him to leave and fix them. As he turned back around though, he was startled to find Grantaire standing right behind him. The surprise gave him a jolt, a sharp intake of breath, and he felt the bindings fall farther down. 

Grantaire wore an amused smirk on his face, his eyes trained on Enjolras’s as he took a step closer. “My dear Enjolras, what brings you to this end of the room? Have you come to continue our quarrel? Or perhaps to simply allow me to bask in your presence yet again?”

“No,” snapped Enjolras, annoyed, trying to step around him. “I have not. Let me pass.” 

“Come now, I must insist you stay for a bit.” Grantaire held a bottle in one hand, his other freely reaching forward to rest on Enjolras’s shoulder. “Let me enjoy the sound of your voice for but a few minutes. I am lonely.” He grinned wide and Enjolras sneered in return, smelling the wine on his breath. 

The touch to his shoulder had sent his heart racing. He didn’t like to be touched, and certainly not now when his bindings were precariously loose. “You’re drunk again, and make for poor company,” Enjolras replied, swallowing hard, knowing now he would need to step out and fix his dressings. He stole a sidelong glance at the mirror again, wondering if the fallen bandage had altered his carefully molded silhouette. 

“But you, in turn, are rather fine company,” Grantaire replied lazily. Enjolras was still distracted by the mirror when suddenly the hand left his shoulder and slipped inside his vest, trailing across his chest. He felt Grantaire’s fingers tense just before he struck Grantaire hard across the face, a resounding slap that made half the other men in the room turn to look. 

Enjolras jumped back, baring his teeth, his shoulders hunched protectively. “How dare you touch me,” he hissed. Grantaire’s eyes were wide, staring stupidly at him, yet Enjolras was sure it was not the slap that had shocked him. Enjolras was nearly shaking, and with several pairs of eyes on him now he had to get away. He fled the room, shoving aside Grantaire, who stepped back dumbfounded.

Enjolras went down the hall of the café and surreptitiously slipped into a closet. He removed his vest, his shirt, and rearranged his bindings to cover what had become exposed, what Grantaire had felt. Around and around, the bandage looped his body, carefully tightened to keep everything in place as it should be, as he had done for years. This time he pulled it so taut it hurt, his breaths shallow, but he would not have it come undone again.

Having gotten the rest of his clothes back on, he returned to the room with as much dignity as he could muster. His cold eyes found Grantaire sitting at a back table alone, watching him enter. His jaw tightened angrily. He knew now he would have to say something. He had gone through such pains to avoid a situation like this, but he had not been expecting the sudden touch. Most people had a general sense of proper boundaries; drunken Grantaire was not one of them.

Enjolras tossed his head dismissively and turned to Courfeyrac and Combeferre, joining their conversation as if nothing had happened. They did not ask why he had slapped Grantaire, and he was grateful for that courtesy. As the evening wore on, he stole a few annoyed glances in Grantaire’s direction. He wasn’t moving from his seat, and he wasn’t even drinking, simply watching Enjolras. Admittedly Grantaire would often watch him, but Enjolras knew there was more to it now. He tried to imagine what Grantaire was possibly thinking, and could not come up with an answer. Inside he was panicking, and he could no more concentrate on his thoughts than the conversation of his friends.

Then the men began to dissipate, the serving girls taking away the cups and bottles, dimming the lamps, and still Grantaire sat alone, as if he were waiting. Enjolras wondered if Grantaire knew that he was planning on demanding a word with him. _Or is it,_ he thought angrily, _he is curious to know more himself?_

The café had now closed and yet they both were there still, alone, sharing the light of the one lamp left to them. Enjolras finally turned his gaze meaningfully on Grantaire, and the other rose, crossing the room to meet him. Immediately, Enjolras felt his heart racing again, only too aware of his humiliation. “Sit,” he commanded, gesturing to a bench against the wall. He knew having Grantaire stay below him might help to feel a sense of control again.

Grantaire obeyed, and looking down on him, Enjolras noticed he had sobered quite a bit. Even so, Enjolras crossed his arms protectively over his chest. “You will not speak of this to anyone.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted it. He cursed himself for not trying the approach of denial, that Grantaire had felt something else. But making excuses would have been suspicious enough, and so he composed himself and stared down sternly at Grantaire, waiting.

“I won’t,” Grantaire agreed hollowly. 

“Good,” Enjolras said curtly. He didn’t know what else to say. It was silent, and Grantaire continued to look up at him. Enjolras wanted to yell at him, to hit him. _Why do you look at me so? What is it you are thinking?_ He imagined Grantaire was studying his face to look for proof of masculinity, traces of stubble perhaps, or the apple of his throat. “I’m not a woman, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Enjolras spit out suddenly.

“I wasn’t thinking that,” Grantaire said softly, placating. Enjolras saw the look in his eyes and he recoiled. It seemed so familiar. Full of longing, a desire to understand, and beneath that, Enjolras could swear, was pity. It was the same look his mother had given him, when he first showed her, as a young adolescent. _How dare you,_ he thought, glaring at Grantaire. _I should be the one to pity you, at least I can conceal my physical deficiencies. You cannot hide your face._

“What are you thinking then?” Enjolras demanded.

“I am thinking… you should sit down as well,” he said, gesturing to the space on the bench beside him.

Enjolras snorted defiantly, but then in the silence, nothing but his pained breathing against his bindings, he realized he should calm himself. He sat down on the bench in a huff. His ribs were sore, and he longed to return to his apartment and remove the dressings, and perhaps to indulge in a bath. Grantaire said nothing, his hands in his lap, his eyes downcast before flickering back up to Enjolras’s, expectant. 

“I owe you no explanation,” Enjolras said. “You had no right to touch me.”

“I am not suggesting you owe me such. I am merely suggesting it may give you peace if you did.”

 _“Peace?”_ Enjolras snarled. “I have been trying for years to be at peace with myself and it takes a single touch from you to bring it all back down. “

Grantaire turned his face away. “I am sorry, I hadn’t meant…I didn’t _know-”_

“You weren’t supposed to know,” Enjolras sighed bitterly, staring out at the darkened room. “I don’t want to be touched because I don’t want anyone knowing.”

“And what of those who already know? Do you-”

“No one knows,” Enjolras cut in. “…my parents,” he said after a pause. Once he had told his mother, she had passed the message on to his father. He had not been so kind, inspecting and prodding him with a confusion bordering on anger, concluding in the end his son was turning into a woman. They had taken him to the doctor, but nothing inherently wrong could be found. He was simply an anomaly, and from that day, he began his routine of binding. “A doctor,” he added with a dismissive wave of his hand. “And now, _you._ ” He turned to him, glaring, though he felt a deep ache in his side, and he let out a grunt, his hand going to his ribs.

“What is it? Are you in pain, Enjolras?” Grantaire cocked his head, his brows drawing down.

Enjolras looked away, not wanting to see pity again. “I keep myself bound. After you put your hand on me I made sure it was as tight as possible.”

Grantaire shook his head. “You’re hurting yourself, remove it.”

“So you can humiliate me further?”

“I already know now, don’t I? And we are in near darkness.”

Enjolras did want to remove his bindings, badly. He wanted to stand and return home, but he was already terribly sore, and it was a long walk back. “You must not look at me,” he conceded, starting to unbutton his vest.

“Do you think I do not know shame as well?” Grantaire asked as he averted his eyes.

“One would think you had none at all.” Enjolras let his vest drop to the floor, slipping his arms out of the suspenders.

“I have much of my own but I know to cast it aside. It is easier to live like that, than dwell on…my outward appearance. I cannot hide, so I must be content.”

Enjolras felt a sting of guilt. _It may be that he understands more than I realize. Is he worse off than I?_ He pulled off his shirt, and saw Grantaire turn to look. Enjolras sat there with his chest tightly bound in the bandages, and he met Grantaire’s eyes with a stoic frown, but said nothing. He reached to untie the knot behind his back, loosening the ties and started slowly unwinding, the pressure lifting. “You insist on watching,” he commented.

Grantaire quickly turned away again. “I-“

“Your curiosity is not unexpected, knowing you.” Enjolras had to admit it would be an interesting experiment to say the least. There had always been the forbidden possibility in the back of his mind that someone else would find out, and now he wondered at the reaction. Considering Grantaire’s own flaws, he had no right to throw stones.

As he let the last of the bindings fall away, Enjolras let out a breath of relief, a soft pant, and Grantaire’s eyes were upon him again. Enjolras set his jaw tight again and straightened his spine, meeting his eyes with dignity and silence. But Grantaire’s eyes were cast down, staring.

Enjolras’s chest was riddled with impressions dug into his skin from the bandages, an erratic pattern, but underneath, his skin was smooth and bare. His breasts were small, soft and tipped with pink, and as much as he tried to flatten them, they still curved gently outward. Enjolras loathed them, and rarely did he allow himself to touch them. Only on his nights of deepest shame would he let his fingers linger there, and he hated every moment of it.

Grantaire’s eyes were still upon him and finally Enjolras looked away, turning a deep red. “I know you’ve thought of me before, undressed. Surely you weren’t imagining this.”

“Not at all,” he heard Grantaire reply, his voice low. The bench creaked, the sound of Grantaire moving closer.

Enjolras bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut. “And does it disgust you?” 

He sharply drew in a breath as he felt Grantaire’s rough fingertips upon him, brushing across his nipple, but he refused to open his eyes, his heart racing in his chest. “No,” Grantaire said, and Enjolras could feel his breath upon his skin. “You are even more beautiful.” 

“I’m not-” But he gasped, his eyes fluttering open as he felt Grantaire’s mouth upon him, kissing the curve of his breast worshipfully before closing around the nipple. Enjolras dug his fingers into Grantaire’s dark curls, fearful, wanting to push him back and yet… he felt himself growing aroused. The thought that Grantaire, that anyone, could possibly find this desirable gave him a certain relief he didn’t know he had wanted. “Grantaire,” he managed, his voice raw, fingers tightening in his hair. 

Grantaire looked up obediently, releasing him.

“No…I…” Enjolras swallowed heavily, feeling cold and exposed as Grantaire’s mouth left him. “Please,” he whispered, drawing him closer.

He felt the stubble on Grantaire’s jaw brushing up against his skin as he moved to his other breast, and Enjolras tensed, his fingers shaking as they held onto his hair. He heard Grantaire make a low sound in his throat, animalistic in nature, carnal, frightening him even more. But Grantaire’s lips were on his nipple, and he found himself arching against him, unable to stop himself. His whole body felt alive, and though it was certainly wrong, he had never realized how exhilarating it could be for someone to touch his bare skin, to use their mouth upon him like this, and-

He cried out as he felt an unexpected spike of pleasure, and in a panic he pushed Grantaire away, shocked. It took him a moment to realize Grantaire had bit him, and he in turn had _enjoyed_ it, far more than he wanted to. Enjolras instinctively reached his hands up to cover himself, humiliated. 

“Forgive me, Enjolras,” Grantaire said, his voice coming out rather breathless. “I’ve frightened you.”

“You forget yourself,” Enjolras snapped. “What are you, a dog?” He stood up, glad that Grantaire couldn’t possibly see the red in his cheeks in the darkness, nor the erection he sorely wished would go away. He snatched up his shirt and vest from the floor, hastily throwing them on over his naked torso and buttoning up, forsaking the bindings in favor of leaving as quickly as possible. “Never speak of this,” he commanded as he found his coat, stuffing the long bandage in his pocket. 

“Enjolras!” he heard Grantaire protest weakly as he left. His footsteps were heavy on the floorboards as he marched down the stairs, and Grantaire would know he was in no mood to turn back. As he made his way through the street back to his apartment, he could feel himself burning with shame. Even though he wore three layers of clothing he still felt naked without the security of his bindings, the exposure to the fabric of his shirt unfamiliar in public. He hurried home, and though no one on the street turned their heads in his direction, he felt invisible eyes upon him scrutinizing his natural unbound silhouette. 

When he arrived at his apartment, he didn’t bother with lighting the lamps. He paced in the darkness for a few moments, fuming at Grantaire’s audacity, before calming down enough to disrobe. He lit a single candle and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning into the light to inspect himself. He was almost confused to see Grantaire hadn’t left a mark on his nipple, sure that there would be one after so strong a sensation. But there was nothing really, save for the fact that it was more red than usual… more sensitive, he noticed as he carefully touched it, his nipple stiffening under his fingers. 

He blew the candle out and lay down on the bed, the sheets cool against his back, and he nearly held his breath as he let his fingers remain on his breast, wondering at the dull ache Grantaire had left behind. He imagined it again, what it was like with Grantaire right up against him, his rough unshaven face on his skin, how it made him shiver. Enjolras felt the pulse of blood going to his cock again and he angrily threw the blanket over himself, wrapping himself up tightly and rolling onto his belly to keep his arms in place and his hands from wandering. Grantaire was a deviant, and he had forced him… no, he remembered pulling Grantaire closer, _asking_ for more. He hated himself for being so weak, for letting him see and touch and do what he had done. But, Enjolras thought, Grantaire _had_ forced him to reveal himself, he was the one who had drunkenly stuck his hand inside Enjolras’s vest. It was certainly Grantaire’s fault after all, and Enjolras returned to loathing him before he fell asleep.

When he woke, he was dismayed to find he had fallen asleep naked. Even in his own home he was accustomed to the modesty of a nightshirt under the covers, and he cursed himself as he remembered what happened the night before, that someone, Grantaire of all people, knew his secret now. He rose to wash and dress, carefully avoiding his own touch as he bound himself once more, attempting to push the memories from his mind.

That night he met with his friends once again at the café, and felt better upon speaking of other matters with them, feeling as if everything would continue on normally as it had before, until Grantaire walked in. An immediate rush of humiliation returned to Enjolras at Grantaire’s arrival. He felt emasculated, less of a man than he had been before, now that Grantaire was walking around with the knowledge of what lay under Enjolras’s clothes. _He must be thinking about it right now,_ Enjolras thought with a snarl, and when he caught Grantaire’s eye he flushed and turned away. 

As the night wore on, he found he was able to pretend Grantaire wasn’t in the room, if Grantaire wasn’t in his field of vision. Enjolras was having a pleasant enough debate with Joly and Courfeyrac when he felt a breath against his ear. “Stay after, again,” came the whisper that was unmistakably Grantaire’s voice, though Enjolras refused to turn his head to acknowledge that he had heard. He leaned closer to Courfeyrac, closing off any access Grantaire had.

But as the others left, Bahorel leading the charge to a seedy establishment for what he claimed would be some rather fine dancing girls, Enjolras found himself hesitating at the door. He was planning on going home, of course, having no interest in half-naked women, considering what was under his own clothes. But Grantaire clearly needed telling off, and now that they could be alone here was his chance.

Grantaire stood by the window, watching Enjolras approach him, looking pleased to see Enjolras complying. “Stop looking at me like that,” Enjolras growled in warning. 

“How so?” Grantaire asked.

“Are you pleased we share a secret? You _stole_ it from me. Don’t be proud of what you know.”

Grantaire’s expression immediately sobered. “Forgive me, I wanted to apologize to you, Enjolras.”

His words gave Enjolras pause. “You did?” He thought for sure that Grantaire had wanted to see under his shirt again, for him to be Grantaire’s own personal half-naked evening entertainment.

“You left so fast last night… I simply wanted to tell you I should not have done what I did, and for that I am truly sorry. I overstepped, I know.” It seemed as if Grantaire wanted to reach for his hand. “It was all too much for you. Did I hurt you?” 

Enjolras reddened at the suggestion that he was too weak to handle such things. “No, I was not hurt,” he replied. “I just require you to keep your distance. None of this would have happened if you had common decency. Keep your hands to yourself.” 

Grantaire nodded in agreement, watching him with his eyes intent upon his face at first, but then they flicked lower to Enjolras’s chest. “Grantaire-” he started, curling his lip, but he was interrupted.

“How long have you been binding yourself?” Grantaire asked softly. 

Enjolras’s nostrils flared as he exhaled a sigh, attempting to calm himself. “For as long as I have had need to.” He paused, thinking, then added, “Eight years.”

He saw Grantaire’s face soften into that expression of pity again, and Enjolras looked away quickly, enraged. “You have been in pain for much too long,” Grantaire said sadly.

“Save your pity for someone else.”

“It’s not that I pity you, I want to help you.” Grantaire stepped closer.

Enjolras took a step back to keep the distance between them. “Help me? Were you _helping_ me last night?” 

“Yes,” Grantaire replied, to Enjolras’s disbelief. “I hoped you would feel loved, like you deserve to be.”

“You made me feel horrible.” Enjolras turned away from him, staring at the floor. 

“Tell me, did I make you feel horrible before or after you asked me to continue?” Grantaire said softly, and Enjolras was livid to hear the self-satisfaction in his tone.

He turned angrily on him. “You humiliated me! You aren’t sorry at all, are you? Surely you loved every moment of what you did.”

“No, I _am_ sorry I found out the way I did. That was uncouth of me, yes. But… I must admit it seemed you enjoyed when I touched you, after we were alone. Am I wrong?”

“Yes,” Enjolras hissed, pulling away and staring at the floor, watching a shadow dance in the flickering light of a candle. “Very wrong.”

“Because, it seemed to _me_ that you were simply ashamed of feeling pleasure. As if you had convinced yourself it was not allowed.” Grantaire stepped closer behind him, but Enjolras ignored him.

“I was given a body like this because I was never meant for such things. I am above that. I have no need for physical pleasure.”

“Certainly.” Enjolras could tell Grantaire was mocking him. “And when you went home last night, tell me, how did it feel imagining my mouth on you again?”

Enjolras whirled around to slap him, but Grantaire caught his wrist. Enjolras struggled to yank it away but Grantaire held fast. “ _You_ touched yourself last night imagining me, knowing how depraved you are,” Enjolras snarled back, his bindings making his chest ache as his breath quickened

“I did,” he agreed. “Because, I am not ashamed to admit, I love your body now even more than I did before. But have you any love for yourself?”

“I-” he started to answer, then paused. He decided to ignore Grantaire telling him he thought about him last night, and focus on the question. Enjolras was well aware he hated himself from the shoulders down. But he was proud of his mind, and his words, when he spoke them with meaning and conviction for the cause. He was quite content with his face as well, and years ago he had often lamented he would have been happy were it not for his anomaly. “Yes,” he finally answered, his voice quiet. “Just not all of me. Surely _you_ know how that feels,” he said, hoping to sting him. 

Grantaire loosened his grip on his wrist and let him go. “I did once. But I learned self-pity was a waste. I learned to enjoy what I am in this world, instead of wishing for something I could not change.” 

Enjolras reddened and turned away. Was he self-pitying? He usually took pride in ignoring the physical, but now he wasn’t sure.

“Look in the mirror, and accept what you see,” Grantaire said. 

Enjolras looked up at the command, annoyed that Grantaire thought he needed to be fixed. He would be perfectly fine continuing on in the manner he always lived, and planned on it. “Just like that, Grantaire? Is it really so easy for you?” he said, glaring at him.

“It takes work, but you must start somewhere.” 

Enjolras found himself being ushered towards the mirror in the corner, and he almost stumbled over a chair before he complied and let Grantaire take him over to where he had been standing last night, where Grantaire had drunkenly put his hands on him. “You want me to look at myself?” he scoffed. “There, here I am.” He stared straight ahead, glaring at himself in place of the reflection of Grantaire beside him.

“I’ve seen you look upon yourself before,” Grantaire replied. “But I meant without the bindings.”

Enjolras drew in a breath. Admittedly, that was something he never could bring himself to do. He could look down at himself, while he washed and dressed, but to see the whole image in the mirror was a different matter. But there was no need anyway, why did it matter if he hadn’t any interest in his body? He closed his eyes, so he wouldn’t have to see the reflection of himself and Grantaire looking intently at him. “Your attempts to remove my clothes are thin, indeed,” Enjolras sneered.

“I have already seen you, Enjolras. Is modesty the reason why you refuse to look?”

“No,” Enjolras snapped. He started unbuttoning his vest. He knew this was against his better judgment but it infuriated him to think that Grantaire found him incapable of something so simple as looking in a mirror. “My reason is you. You looked upon me after I expressly said not to. You touched me without permission, drunk and sober alike. Why should I undress in front of you?” he asked even as he pulled off his shirt, discarding it on a nearby table. 

“Enjolras, really, I didn’t mean for you to disrobe here,” Grantaire hastened to say. “There is no need-”

“Be quiet.” Enjolras walked back over to the mirror in his bindings. This he could manage, he had no problem gazing upon himself bound. With the bindings, it was hard to tell he was different. Slowly he brought his hand to the knot at his back and untied the bandage, unwinding it carefully, though his hands moved quickly from years of practice. As the bindings fell away, he found himself staring at the floor where the ribbon of fabric now lay in a heap. He didn’t want to look up. 

“Enjolras?” Grantaire asked. 

Enjolras looked up at him, his cheeks burning. He kept his arms resolutely at his sides though, trying not to let his shame get the better of him.

“You would rather meet my eyes than your own,” Grantaire remarked, almost sadly. “Let me help you. Permit me to touch you.”

Enjolras narrowed his eyes. “Why?” 

“To help you,” Grantaire said simply, stepping closer. “Don’t be afraid.”

Enjolras was quiet, watching him and considering. As much as he hated to admit it, he had enjoyed Grantaire’s touch last night. He wasn’t afraid this time, not of Grantiare. “Just your hands. Nothing further.”

“Nothing further,” Grantaire agreed. He stood behind Enjolras and slipped his hands beneath his arms, bringing them around his body to gently cup his breasts. Enjolras stiffened at first but then, feeling the warmth of his hands, slowly relaxed, leaning back against him. “Look up,” Grantaire whispered against his ear. 

Enjolras looked up and saw himself, though Grantaire was keeping his chest covered. With those large hands over his breasts, hiding them from view, he could still pretend he was a normal man, even if his features and his shape were more feminine than the rest of his companions.

“Watch my hands,” Grantaire told him, and he slowly began to move his hands downward. They left Enjolras’s breasts, his fingers pressing in as they slipped down his ribcage, over his belly, stopping to rest on his hips. Enjolras kept his eyes trained on them in the reflection, his breath shallow in his chest. Then Grantaire’s hands went back up, slowly running up Enjolras’s ribcage again and returned to his breasts, though instead of covering them, he cupped them outward.

Enjolras’s eyes fell nervously on his uncovered breasts and… the sight wasn’t so terrible. They weren’t as obtrusive as he had imagined them to be, not as foreign or strange as he remembered. The last time he saw himself fully nude in a mirror had been years ago… 

“I hope you can see that you are magnificent,” Grantaire supplied. Enjolras couldn’t help but shiver, watching Grantaire’s hands upon his breasts, mesmerized. A soft noise escaped from his throat as Grantaire softly massaged his nipples, sensitive as he tugged at them with his fingertips. “Because you are.” He paused, then laughed softly. “Perhaps fate has deemed us the complement of one another. You are extraordinarily beautiful, to match someone like me, so atrociously-“

They both jumped as a door slammed downstairs. _Has one of the waitresses returned? Left one of her belongings?_ Enjolras frantically grabbed for his shirt, quickly throwing it on and buttoning it. He realized he was fastening the buttons in the wrong holes but there was no time to set it right; he stuffed the rest of his shirt into his pants, throwing on his vest and coat. He quickly fled the room, down the stairs, and out into the night, without a glance back to Grantaire.

“Wait!” he heard him calling, hurrying across the street. He caught up, stopping Enjolras on the cobblestones, holding something out. “You forgot this,” he said. The bindings were balled up in his hand, and Enjolras reached for them guiltily. 

“Thank you,” he muttered, shoving them in his pocket. He turned to go, but Grantaire caught his arm, pulling him back against him. Enjolras gasped, realizing Grantaire was aroused. 

“Let me go home with you, Enjolras” he whispered in his ear, his voice low. “I’ve not finished saying how perfect you are.” 

Enjolras closed his eyes, instantly reminded of how it felt in front of the mirror with Grantaire behind him, his hands on his bare torso. He fought the feeling back down and tried to pull away. “Grantaire,” he whispered harshly. “Don’t put your hands on me, we’re in plain sight!” Though it was dark, there were figures further down the way, milling about in front of a bar on the street corner 

Grantaire released him reluctantly. “Then take me to where we can be alone.”

Enjolras quickly stepped away, reaching up to shield himself from potential onlookers, given his disheveled state of dress. Even at night this was no way to be walking home, unbound and unkempt, feeling so exposed. He wrapped his arms around his body, desperate to get back to his apartment, but he was shocked to find himself indecisive over Grantaire’s proposal. _No, I refuse,_ he thought, but he had only made it so many steps before he spun on his heel to face him again. Grantaire suddenly looked hopeful, eager as a stray dog, his head held attentively higher. Enjolras stared back at him, furious, unable to comprehend why this was a difficult decision. 

But he couldn’t continue standing on the street like this, trying to understand what he wanted. “C-come,” he said a bit uncertainly, reasoning that he could simply decide what to do after they got to his apartment, that he could kick Grantaire out whenever he wished. He beckoned him with a sharp nod and turned to head down the street, his arms still holding his coat tightly around him. 

Grantaire hastened to follow, catching up to him and walking by his side. He was silent all the way to the apartment, as if he were afraid that if he spoke, Enjolras might change his mind. Enjolras supposed it was true, he was so unsure of what he had agreed to. But he had to admit it was nice that Grantaire was keeping his mouth shut, it gave him time to think.

When they arrived at his apartment, he brought him up the stairs and closed the door quietly, lighting a few candles. His hands were shaking as he held the match, and he felt Grantaire’s hand over his own. “Allow me,” he said, but Enjolras waved him away.

“Sit down, Grantaire,” he commanded, though when he turned from the candle and saw him heading towards the bed, he was quick to correct him. “No. Over there,” he said as he shook out the match, nodding at a hard wooden chair by the dining table. Grantaire couldn’t simply make himself at home. He watched him slink to the chair and slide into it, satisfied that Grantaire had obeyed. 

There was a pause as they both stared at each other silently. _And what are we to do now? You were the one who wanted to follow me home._ “Yes?” Enjolras asked testily, annoyed that Grantaire wasn’t making this easy for him.

“Shall we pick up from where we left off?” he suggested. 

Enjolras frowned, contemplating. “You’ll have me undress again?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Perhaps some wine then?”

“No,” Enjolras answered. He certainly didn’t want Grantaire drunk in his apartment; he was already uncertain of him being there sober.

Grantaire raised his hands in a gesture of peace. “I merely thought it would settle your nerves, Enjolras.”

“Oh,” he breathed, realizing the wine was meant for him. He paused, then went to the cabinet with a sigh of resignation, taking out a small bottle and two glasses. “Just the one,” he told him sternly as he set a glass down next to Grantaire on the table, uncorking the bottle and pouring him wine before he did so for himself. 

“My host is generous indeed,” Grantaire said, seeming pleased as he picked up the glass, sniffing the wine before taking a sip. “All jesting aside, thank you. I find myself surprised you even own a bottle.” 

“For guests,” Enjolras replied shortly. He took a sip from his own glass as he stood in front of Grantaire anxiously. It always went down bitter; as much as his friends seemed to like it, it held no appeal for him. He set the glass down on the table, more preoccupied with the state of his clothing. He knew he looked ridiculous, with his buttons aligned incorrectly, his shirttail half out of his pants. He crossed the room, removing his coat to toss it onto the dresser, then his vest, and was reaching to fix the buttons of his shirt when he paused, his fingers tensing over a button. He knew Grantaire was watching him, and despite his best efforts, he seemed to enjoy Grantaire’s appreciation of his body. It was refreshing, and after all, wasn’t that why Grantaire had been invited inside, to continue where they had left off?

With his back to Grantaire, he slowly unbuttoned the shirt, parting the fabric and letting it fall from his shoulders, knowing full well that the view was a tease of some sort. He folded up the shirt, taking his time and placed it on the dresser in front of him, before looking over his shoulder. Grantaire was watching him over the rim of his wine glass. 

Enjolras blushed suddenly though as he felt himself becoming aroused over this. It was wrong, it was sinful that Grantaire could enjoy this body, but it was hard to deny this new feeling of being desirable. So many others had looked at him before, with no idea what lay beneath his clothes, and Enjolras had paid them no mind. If they had known, surely they would have been disgusted. But Grantaire knew the truth, and he was far from repulsed by Enjolras’s secret. _Only because he is repulsive himself,_ Enjolras tried to tell himself, but the thought didn’t ring true. Enjolras wasn’t so repulsed by his attentions now. 

He decided to feign indifference to Grantaire’s presence, and turned to sit on the bed, taking off his boots. He pulled them off, one and then the other, and stood to set them neatly beside wardrobe. He stopped then, wondering if he should change into his nightshirt, or go sit with Grantaire in his current state of undress. As his hands clung to his waistband, considering, he realized how aroused he was. 

“Will you be showing me everything tonight?” 

Enjolras straightened as he heard Grantaire speak, turning to him. Grantaire looked more relaxed already, sipping his wine, leaning back and enjoying the sight of Enjolras half-naked standing before him. Enjolras tossed his head, feeling a twinge of annoyance. Grantaire was seeing what he could get away with; he had turned an apology into an invitation home, and no doubt he was feeling lucky. Enjolras really had become Grantaire’s nude entertainment for the evening, while the others were with their dancing girls. “You ask much of me,” he said stiffly. “You do not see me making such demands.” 

“Would you like me to remove all of my clothes? I will only be too happy,” Grantaire laughed. “No, I was only curious. I did not mean to interrupt.”

Enjolras fought back the instinct to cover his chest as he watched Grantaire. “I can’t say I make for a very pleasing image,” he admitted.

“Then that makes two of us,” Grantaire smirked back at him. “Though I disagree with your assessment. I am quite sure that the rest of you is just as pleasing to behold.”

Grantaire smiled encouragingly, but Enjolras stood there silently. He had clearly wanted Grantaire to continue his attentions, since he had brought him inside. As infuriating as he could be, he was soothing something deep inside, a need Enjolras never knew he had. _But how far will this go? Will he ask to touch my cock as well?_

“Would you like me to help you again?” Grantaire asked quietly in the silence.

“No,” Enjolras snapped. “I can do it.” He unbuttoned his pants, and pulled them down along with the breeches underneath, stepping out of them. Then he was standing completely naked in front of Grantaire, aroused and trying hard not to be filled with shame. He let out a shallow breath, his heart beating faster in his chest, and he looked to Grantaire for his reaction to the incongruous sight of his naked body. Grantaire stared calmly, his eyes roaming slowly up and down to take him in. He shifted slightly in his chair, the wooden creak in the silence grating on Enjolras’s nerves. “Grantaire,” Enjolras said, desperate to know.

“Extraordinary,” he said approvingly, his eyes once again moving from Enjolras’s breasts to the modest cock between his legs, then back up to meet his eyes. “I have never seen such an angel.”

“A demon, more like,” Enjolras muttered, looking away.

“No, I have seen depictions, illustrations of angels with your body before. Only a being so heavenly could be blessed with such beautiful traits on a single body.” 

“And I was referring to the same,” Enjolras replied stoically. “My father showed me paintings of demons with the same body. He made me promise I would never show anyone what I was.”

Grantaire set his empty glass on the table. “What are demons but fallen angels? Are you going to fall, Enjolras?”

“I will if we continue as we are, surely.”

Grantaire laughed, delighted by Enjolras’s response. “If anyone is a demon, it must be me. Come here, angel.” He spread his arms and beckoned him closer.

Enjolras hesitated, before stepping forward, closer into the glow of the candlelight. “Why do you say such things?” 

“What things?” Grantaire asked, looking up attentively.

Enjolras stood over him, his eyebrows drawing down. “You say you are so accepting of what you are, yet you openly berate yourself whenever you see a chance.” 

“I have accepted that I am ugly. That is what others see and know, so I am merely agreeing with that fact. Here, I am telling you how beautiful you really are, and you should agree with me.” He reached out, gingerly taking Enjolras’s hand in his own.

Enjolras allowed the touch, letting him keep hold of his fingers. “And what if I agree with how my father saw me instead?”

“Parents are not to be believed,” Grantaire scolded, his lips forming a smile. “My mother thought I was beautiful.”

“Stop that!” Enjolras said, more forcefully than intended. Grantaire leaned back, startled, as Enjolras placed his hands on his shoulders. “Stop saying such things. How am I to believe you aren’t self-pitying?”

“I am honest with myself, it is only a fact,” he sighed, looking up at him apologetically. “You agree that I am ugly.”

Enjolras stared down at him, not knowing what to say, studying him for something he could admire. He felt Grantaire gently touch the back of his thigh, urging him to sit down, and Enjolras straddled him easily, resting his feet on the bottom rungs of the chair. It barely occurred to him he was naked in Grantaire’s lap; Grantaire’s warmth made him feel less exposed. He slowly drew up his hands, placing them in his dark hair. It was soft, recently washed, and Enjolras liked the feel of it. “You are not so bad, when you are sober and calm,” Enjolras said, contemplating. “When you are not red in the face, and you…” Enjolras let his hand trail down Grantaire’s cheek. “You’ve shaved?” he asked, finally noticing and wondering if Grantaire had cleaned up just for him. “Did you expect you would be seeing me tonight?”

“It was a possibility I was preparing for,” Grantaire said offhandedly. “I’m flattered you think I’ve made an improvement.” 

Enjolras nodded silently and slowly guided Grantaire’s face closer, wanting to feel his smooth skin against his flesh. Grantaire obliged, nuzzling Enjolras’s breast, his nose and lips gliding across the surface of his skin. Enjolras drew in a breath, watching, and their eyes met before Grantaire took Enjolras’s nipple in his mouth, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. A whimper escaped Enjolras’s lips and he curled up around him, his fingers burying into his hair, hugging him closer. 

He felt Grantaire’s hand slip between them and grasp his cock, fully aroused, and he dug his fingers deeper into Grantaire’s curls. “Will you allow this?” Grantaire whispered against his skin.

“Yes,” Enjolras said softly, pushing his cock against his hand. He dropped his head, wanting to rest it on Grantaire’s shoulder, and he felt warm breath on his chest, his neck, his jaw, as Grantaire’s lips trailed upward. He finally caught Enjolras’s virgin lips in a kiss, his rough hand brushing across his cheek. Enjolras could taste the wine he had given him, but his lips were soft, and Grantaire kissed him slowly, reverently. Then there was the unexpected touch of Grantaire’s fingers tracing the length of his shaft, and Enjolras gasped against his mouth, breathing into him.

Grantaire laughed softly under his breath. “Even the sounds you make are beautiful, Enjolras,” he said against his lips.

Enjolras pulled back, looking down on him hazily. “Grantaire, prove your honesty. You say I’m so beautiful, but would you trade places, if you had to have a body like mine instead?”

“Certainly not,” Grantaire purred, lazily stroking Enjolras’s cock. “If I looked like you I would never leave my apartment. I would waste away like Narcissus, surrounded by mirrors, thinking how blessed I was to touch myself. So no, I musn’t trade with you.”

“ _Deviant,_ ” Enjolras breathed out in a huff, his fingers tracing Grantaire’s lips. Grantaire smirked, parting his lips to lightly bite Enjolras’s fingertip. It reminded him of the bite Grantaire had given him last night, and he blushed. “You wouldn’t be able to use your mouth, then, if it were you in my body,” he remarked. 

“Exactly why I much prefer to be me. I can put my mouth wherever you would like.” Grantaire leaned in and took his other breast in his mouth, suckling before he gave him another gentle bite.

“A-ahh,” Enjolras moaned, drawing in a breath, but instead of pushing him away as before, he thrust against Grantaire’s hand. The chair creaked loudly under their weight as Enjolras tried to ride him. 

“Are you sure you won’t allow me on your bed?” Grantaire laughed. “Surely it would be more comfortable.” Enjolras lifted his head and looked over at the bed, then back to Grantaire uncertainly. “Don’t worry,” Grantaire continued. “I won’t undress, if that worries you.”

Enjolras only noticed then, looking down in surprise, that Grantaire was aroused again. _Or perhaps he has been this way all night._ Enjolras’s eyes moved to the open collar of his shirt, and he could see a bit of hair on his chest where the fabric parted. “No, no,” Enjolras said as he curiously reached to undo the first button. “I might prefer if we were on equal footing.” 

Grantaire looked down, watching Enjolras’s nimble fingers unbuttoning his shirt and waistcoat. Enjolras pushed the fabric away, exposing Grantaire’s chest, and stared. He put his hands flat to his chest and ran them over the smooth muscles, and the wisps of hair at his sternum, admiring the way a man’s chest was supposed to feel. _And would I trade with you, if I were to look like you instead?_ He leaned forward and pressed against him, wanting to feel his bare skin against his own, and rested his head on Grantaire’s shoulder. _I would._ “You may take me to the bed,” Enjolras said quietly, wrapping his legs around his waist to hold onto him. 

Grantaire stood and carried him over to the bed, laying him down on the sheets. He returned for one of the candles and a cloth beside the washbasin, placing them on the bedside table. “I do hope you’re enjoying my presence,” he said as he discarded his shirt, before continuing on to remove the rest of his clothes. “Though I can’t say I feel worthy of your bed. It was not long ago tonight you preferred to have nothing to do with me.”

Enjolras turned on his side, watching as Grantaire stepped out of his pants. Grantaire’s cock was significantly bigger than his own, and Enjolras swallowed nervously before his eyes moved up to meet Grantaire’s. “It frightened me that I liked what you did last night. I’m still not sure if this is right, and I don’t know why I enjoy this. I never wanted for physical pleasure.” Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t entirely true. He had spent several nights tortured, keeping himself from relief, telling himself it was wrong.

“You are enjoying this because you are meant to,” Grantaire said, ushering Enjolras aside so there was room for him to lie down on the bed. The mattress sunk down as he settled beside him. “You are meant to enjoy being seen and touched. But you’ve been convinced for so long you wouldn’t that it must seem odd. That, and the fact that it is me.”

Enjolras reached up and lay his hand on Grantaire’s flat chest again, feeling envious, idly running his fingers along his collarbone. “Yes, that comes as a surprise. You’re a callous drunk.” 

“There is more to me, if you’ve been paying attention. I have a soft spot for falling angels.”

Enjolras tensed as he felt Grantaire’s hand slide past his hip and squeeze his ass, pulling him in closer. “ _Grantaire,_ ” he scolded, though he did little to fight as their hips met, feeling Grantaire’s cock press up against his own. Enjolras shivered, opening his mouth to let out a moan, but Grantaire caught him in another kiss instead. 

It was hard to believe that a man Enjolras had found so grating was now wrapped around him in his bed, and that he craved every touch. He hiked his leg up over Grantaire’s hip, grinding against him, while Grantaire’s hand wandered over his ass, tracing over the backs of his thighs. He heard a low guttural noise in Grantaire’s throat, a growl of pleasure, and Enjolras broke the kiss to take a breath. 

“How long have you wanted this?”

“Since I met you,” Grantaire replied. “You called to me like a siren and filled me with a longing I feared would drive me mad.” Enjolras suddenly froze as he felt Grantaire’s fingers behind him, drawing nearer to his entrance. “I thought of you many a night.”

Enjolras’s heart was pounding against Grantaire’s chest, and he couldn’t help but whimper, so aroused by this foreign touch as Grantaire’s fingers brushed across the entrance. Enjolras rubbed up against him, wanting more but not knowing how to ask, afraid of humiliating himself. “Grantaire,” he said, his voice raw as Grantaire kissed his neck. “What did you imagine, when you thought of me last night?”

Grantaire paused, pulling back to contemplate the question. “Many things,” he decided, leaning back in to nip at the soft skin beneath Enjolras’s jaw.

Enjolras’s fingers tensed on Grantaire’s back at the bite. “D-did you imagine yourself inside me?” he whispered derisively in Grantaire’s ear. “Do you want to fuck me like a woman, now that you know what I look like?”

Grantaire laughed breathlessly, reaching up comb his fingers into Enjolras’s hair, meeting his eyes. “Enjolras, I’ve wanted to fuck you long before I knew what you looked like beneath your bindings. The desire is only stronger now.”

Enjolras swallowed nervously, the rise and fall of his breathing pushing his breasts against Grantaire. “And how would you take me?” he whispered. 

Grantaire studied him for a moment, before his mouth slowly formed a smile. “Turn over,” he said simply.

“Are you going to fuck me, Grantaire?” Enjolras asked, his heart racing.

“You have little subtlety, and always have. Just do as I ask.”

Enjolras turned over onto his other side huffily, facing the darkened window and resting his head on the pillow. “I don’t mind looking at your face, Grantaire,” he protested.

“How honorable of you, Enjolras, but that’s not why I asked you to turn over.” Enjolras felt Grantaire’s hands slipping around him to grasp his breasts as Grantaire spooned up against him, their legs winding together. “This is why,” he purred in his ear as Enjolras arched into the touch. “I find it easier for me to have my hands on you, wherever I want them.” He let one hand leave his breast and run down his belly, through the scant trail of hair to find his cock. 

“You do not have enough hands,” Enjolras panted, annoyed that one breast was left neglected in favor of his cock.

“And you have two of your own,” Grantaire pointed out, kissing the back of his neck. “Are you afraid of putting them on yourself?”

“No,” Enjolras breathed, turning red as he brought his hand up to his breast, shyly grasping it to match Grantaire’s hand on the other.

“There, now,” Grantaire said soothingly, nuzzling into his hair. “Were you wanting me to fuck you, Enjolras, or were you simply curious?”

Enjolras was well aware of Grantaire’s cock pressing against his ass. “Will it hurt me?” he asked in a quiet voice, half distracted by the hands upon him. 

“Not if you relax,” Grantaire promised.

Enjolras grunted, considering, before nodding his affirmation. “Be careful. Don’t be an animal about it.” 

“I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” Grantaire laughed, and suddenly he was turning away, his hand leaving Enjolras’s cock. _No, don’t stop…_ Enjolras looked over his shoulder to see him reaching back for the candle. The flame guttered out as his fingers bumped up against the bowl of the candlestick, leaving them in darkness. “Oh… well, no matter,” Grantaire said dismissively.

“What are you doing?” Enjolras asked. The darkness seemed to amplify all his senses and everything he felt, most notably the absence of Grantaire’s touch where it was needed once more. 

“Not to worry,” Grantaire said as Enjolras felt him press up against his back once more. “Just making it so that I will fit.” Enjolras drew in a sharp breath as he felt Grantaire’s fingers, warm and slick with melted tallow, pushing up against his entrance. Enjolras’s hand gripped Grantaire’s thigh as a finger slipped inside him. “Stay calm,” Grantaire reminded him. “You will have my hand back in a moment.”

Enjolras winced, feeling a second finger going inside of him, and his face flushed with shame. Never had he thought that someone, let alone himself, would be touching this intimate part of him. “Grantaire,” he started uncomfortably, but then his next word dissolved into a soft cry as he felt a wave of pleasure. He pushed back against Grantaire’s hand and reached down to grasp his cock, though he felt clumsy. “Hurry,” he ordered, not wanting to have to touch himself.

“No, I musn’t be an animal about it,” Grantaire repeated back, clearly enjoying himself. His fingers moved slowly inside of him, stretching and massaging him from within, while Enjolras whimpered helplessly, stroking himself, halfway between pleasure and discomfort.

“ _Grantaire,_ ” he tried again after several agonizing moments.

“How impatient you are,” Grantaire whispered, slowly withdrawing his fingers. There was a pause, and then suddenly Enjolras felt what must have been Grantaire’s cock pushing into him, larger than his two fingers together. His hand held Enjolras’s hip, keeping him in place, his other hand slipping underneath him again to cup his breast. Enjolras was near frozen as Grantaire slid into him, until he felt Grantaire’s hips flush against his ass. He let out a shaking breath, realizing all too late that his virginity was no longer one of his better qualities.

“Are you quite alright, angel?” Grantaire asked, gently prying Enjolras’s hand off his thigh, guiding it back to his breast where it was before.

“Enjolras,” he corrected breathlessly, taking comfort as his hand closed over his breast. “I’m fine.” _But what would the others say, if they knew their virtuous leader was…_ Grantaire’s hand slipped down to his cock once more, and Enjolras pushed aside his thoughts, wanting to thrust into his grip but afraid to move, with Grantaire buried inside him. “Please,” he said softly, turning his head back toward Grantaire.

Grantaire kissed his cheek. “If you insist.” Enjolras felt Grantaire roll his hips, his cock moving within him, pulling back slowly before pushing deeper. He wasn’t sure if this intrusion was enjoyable, until Grantaire’s fingers, still slick from the tallow, slid down his cock, stroking in time to his thrusts. Enjolras moaned, wrapping his legs tighter around Grantaire’s. He was helpless, yet instead of vulnerability, he felt secure surrounded by Grantaire, cradled tightly by a body he so coveted. 

Grantaire’s thumb rubbed beneath the head of his cock, and suddenly he felt another wave of pleasure from within as Grantaire’s cock hit him in the same way his fingers had before. Enjolras rolled his hips along with Grantaire’s, trying to further the sensation, but nearly lost control as Grantaire’s fingers pinched down on his nipple. He had never felt an ache so satisfying, and when Grantaire pinched once more at the peak of a thrust, Enjolras mirrored him, tugging at the other nipple. He cried out, flexing his toes against Grantaire’s legs and pushing back against him. Grantaire made a low groan of approval and nosed into Enjolras’s hair.

“What a shame we’re in the dark,” Grantaire said roughly. “I should like to see how beautiful you must be at this moment.”

Enjolras only voiced a small noise in reply as he tried to catch his breath. His eyes had fallen shut, his free hand digging into the sheets, and each time he panted from his parted lips he felt light-headed. With Grantaire inside him, Grantaire’s hand on his cock, and each of their hands on his breasts, he was overwhelmed with physical pleasure from each point, and for the first time in his life he understood why taking a lover had its merits. He could never hope to conjure this feeling alone.

With each thrust, each stroke, Enjolras was more and more lost, surrounded by the scent and heat of Grantaire’s body. His breath was warm against his ear, and Enjolras only latently realized Grantaire was saying his name, so soft he could barely hear it over his own panting. “G-grantaire,” he answered back hazily, rutting against Grantaire’s hand. That was all he managed before he came with a shudder, arching up as Grantaire pinched his nipple once more, pleasure radiating through his body. It nearly overtook him, coursing through every part of him, causing him to cry out as he never had before. But all too soon the feeling ebbed away, and he collapsed back against Grantaire, breathing heavily. As he came down, trembling in Grantaire’s arms, he let go of his breast, and the bed sheet, feeling numb with exhaustion. 

Grantaire released his cock and simply placed his hand, slick with come, on Enjolras’s hip, steadying him as he continued to fuck him. His grip on Enjolras’s breast remained, seemingly for Grantaire’s own tactile pleasure as he rocked Enjolras against the bed. Enjolras lay still, his eyes closed, while Grantaire thrust into him again and again, his breath rough against Enjolras’s ear. It was not long before he felt Grantaire stiffen, his fingers digging into his skin as he came, filling Enjolras with the warmth of his release. Grantaire’s chest heaved against his back, and he was held tightly for a few moments, before finally Grantaire pulled away.

The cool air was welcome against Enjolras’s back, though Grantaire’s hand returned, holding the washcloth from the nightstand to attend to him. Enjolras moaned softly in protest as he felt the cloth behind him, feeling sore between his legs, but he allowed it. He laid there, shame washing over him, wondering why he had let Grantaire do something so bestial inside him. When he had been cleaned, he rolled back over, turning to face him in the dark. “Grantaire,” he tried, finding it hard to speak.

Grantaire pulled him closer, and as Enjolras raised his hands to Grantaire’s chest in an attempt to push him away, he found he liked them there. The feel of his body was comforting beneath his fingers, reminding him why he had wanted the connection. He relaxed, abandoning the sudden uncertainty and regret. “Enjolras,” Grantaire answered back, kissing his forehead.

Enjolras had forgotten the words he had meant to say, and too tired to speak, he shut his eyes and let the silence and the sound of their breathing eventually carry him to sleep.

He awoke to the morning light, with an unfamiliar weight on his chest and an oddly pleasant sensation on his nipple. He slowly opened his eyes and looked down, almost shocked to find it wasn’t a dream, and that Grantaire was laying half across him. He was asleep, his breath warm on Enjolras’s breast, tickling him. Enjolras turned red, his hands reaching up to remove Grantaire, but he was distracted by the feel of Grantaire’s dark curls beneath his fingers. He decided to let him be, stroking his hair idly, marveling at the contrast of the dark locks tousled across his pale skin. 

Grantaire woke from Enjolras’s touch, raising his head slowly. He seemed surprised to be waking up in Enjolras’s bed as well, but then he smiled, almost endearing. _He is really not so bad, rested and sober,_ Enjolras thought, assessing his lover’s face. “I never thought I’d-” Grantaire started, but Enjolras cut him off, pressing a finger to Grantaire’s lips.

“Hush.” When Grantaire looked taken aback, Enjolras sighed. “I can only imagine you were going to say something about laying with an angel. Enough of that. I am only Enjolras.”

Grantaire laughed, pushing away his hand. “I never thought I’d lay with you, Enjolras,” he finished. “But I am thanking the stars for allowing it.” He looked down to see Enjolras’s nipple, pink and erect. His tongue slid from his lips and ran along his nipple.

“No,” Enjolras said hastily, shivering as he pushed him off. “I have things to do this morning. You must go now.” He slipped out from under him, getting up off the bed and finding his nightshirt, pulling it on quickly to cover himself.

“Alright,” Grantaire conceded, sitting up. Enjolras turned to watch Grantaire from the corner of his eye, rising naked from the bed to find his clothes on the floor. It was hard to say whether he envied Grantaire’s body or admired it, but either way his eyes were drawn to the sight. He quickly turned from him, not wanting Grantaire to catch him staring.

Enjolras was standing at the dining table, cutting slices from a loaf of bread and buttering them for his breakfast when Grantaire came up behind him, fully dressed. “Are you feeling more at peace about your… I mean to say, do you feel that you…” Grantaire started, trailing off. 

Enjolras raised an eyebrow, looking over his shoulder at him. “Must you have a glass of wine to be more articulate?”

“I hope I have helped you,” Grantaire said dismissively, buttoning the last button of his waistcoat. “I’ll be going.” Enjolras gasped in annoyance as Grantaire reached over him and took a buttered slice of bread. He opened the door, stepping out into the hallway, and turned to say goodbye.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras said, putting down the knife and hastening to the doorway. He had never stood in such a state of dress in front of the open door, but it seemed as if they were alone anyway. 

“Yes, Enjolras?”

“You mustn’t speak of this to anyone. If you do-”

“I won’t,” Grantaire promised. “I’m well aware of the value my discretion holds. Should you wish to continue-”

“Return here, tonight,” Enjolras interrupted before he could stop himself. “There is no meeting but you know how to find me now. Come after dark.” 

Grantaire brightened, smiling. “Perhaps tomorrow instead. It might be good for you to spend a night imagining me on your own. Your hands will not hurt you, I assure you, once you’re acquainted.”

Enjolras scowled at the idea of such deprivation. “No, I require you to come back,” he snapped. “I won’t be left on my own, now that you’ve-”

“It was only a jest,” Grantaire said with a soft laugh. “I am glad to know my company will help. As I said, it takes time.” He leaned in to kiss his cheek, Enjolras standing there stiffly as he did so. “I’ve no doubt you’ll find there is much to love about your body soon enough.” 

“Grantaire!” Enjolras hissed as he felt Grantaire’s fingers creep through the opening in his nightshirt, brushing over his nipple. Enjolras slapped his hand away, blushing. “Be gone.” 

Grantaire nodded with a grin. “Tonight then,” he said in agreement, and put the bread in his mouth as he turned to go down the hallway toward the stairs. 

Enjolras shut the door, shaking his head. _Incorrigible,_ Enjolras thought with a sigh as he returned to the dining table, his cheeks flushed pink. But as he was getting dressed after breakfast, he found himself binding a little less tightly. _I am sore from his incessant attentions,_ he reasoned as he wrapped the bandages loosely around his chest, though pain had never stopped him from his restrictive binding before. He finished dressing, his shirt, vest, and coat all buttoned up, then opened the wardrobe to check himself in the mirror hidden on the back of the door. _It is not that visible, underneath all of this,_ he thought as he checked his silhouette, _and what are the chances someone will put their hands inside to find out?_ Enjolras shook his head, his lips fighting back a smirk. Only Grantaire would be so terrible.


End file.
